


Something Borrowed

by Harmonic_Wisp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2020, Fleur is an apex predator, Shameless Smut, broom closets are her hunting grounds, no beta we die like men, poor Hermione does not stand a chance, send help, this author is terrible at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonic_Wisp/pseuds/Harmonic_Wisp
Summary: Hermione is supposed to be getting ready, but a certain blonde has more than a few words for the soon to be bride.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 30
Kudos: 409





	Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> Rated "explicit" just in case. 
> 
> This is my contribution for "Femslash February 2020"!
> 
> Also, this was written out over the course of an hour and only briefly looked over so expect a few mistakes. Sorry.
> 
> Cross posted on Fanfiction.net

“ _Fleur!_ We… _mmph_ … can’t…” The rest of the words on the tip of Hermione’s tongue were swallowed by the voracious blonde in front of her. She could feel the part-Veela’s lips as they curled up into a smile at the other witch’s feeble interjection. 

“Cannot, _what?_ Hmm? Hermione if you do not speak up, I will not know what you _want_.” The hand that gripped both of the smaller woman’s wrists above them squeezed in reminder of their positions. “But not too loud, of course. _Non_ , we do not want anyone else to _hear_.” 

Fleur’s free hand went to the brunette’s shift covered rear and palmed the woman in one decisive motion that screamed _‘Mine!’_ Hermione gasped and arched herself closer to the blonde and away from the dusty wall of the supply closet that the french witch had dragged them into. Fleur answered the brunette’s instinctive demand with a slow nuzzle of her lips against the exposed olive skin of Hermione’s neck. 

“Please… We… I need to- _ah!_ ” The part-Veela not so gently nipped at the other witch’s pulse point. 

“What do you need to do, hmm? _Ma Petite Lionne_? Is there somewhere _else_ that you need to be?” She growled into the soft skin of her lover as the other woman, the supposed _lioness_ of the two, whimpered against the ministrations along her neck and ass. “Does it have anything to do with,” and the hand that originally kept the smaller woman’s arms suspended above them suddenly ghosted above the tiara embedded within the brunette’s elaborate updo. “ _This_ , hmm?”

Hermione froze at the accusation, her eyes wide as they surveyed the predatory blonde as deft fingers gently tapped at the base of the goblin forged accessory. 

“ _Oh,_ Fleur, please-” 

But if the french witch heard the plea in her voice, she chose to ignore it. Instead, the blonde’s fingers danced around the object and towards the back of the smaller woman’s head. Her fingers found the beginning of a sea of bobby pins beneath the surface.

“I am sure that you have been too _busy_ ,” The emphasis on the word was accompanied by a single _pluck_ of a bobby pin as she removed it from the trapped locks. “To see the outside garden. They look absolutely stunning, I think, for the ceremony to come.”

_Pluck. Pluck. Pluck._

“It would be a _terrible_ shame if the bride was nowhere to be found, _non?_ ” Hermione’s eyes went wide as she processed exactly what Fleur was doing. Eyes that had been clouded with desire just moments before were suddenly sparked with anger at the other woman. Her lips parted to deliver a slew of sharp words, only to gasp as the part-Veela took advantage of her long fingers and positioning to dance her appendages right over the other woman’s most responsive buttons down below. While she didn’t breach the silken barrier that stood between her and the prize underneath, Fleur was more than capable of making the other witch writhe. 

Which was all the distraction she needed to remove the silver tiara from its place on her lover’s crown. Liberated from the army of pins, the goblin forged accessory tumbled harmlessly to the ground as Fleur’s fingers took their place in the brunette’s wild locks. 

“There, much better.” The taller witch stepped closer still as her face nuzzled into little lioness’ hair. “You do not need a crown to remind yourself who you belong to, _non?_ ” 

She punctuated the question with a sudden curl of her fingers, the silken barrier proved that it might as well not have existed in the face of Fleur’s desire and expertise. Hermione had let out a sharp _keen_ , the reminder to be quiet lost on the brunette as her hips rocked against her lover’s insistent digits. Her eyes were closed, all attempts to put a stop to this ceased in the face of the oncoming wave she could feel build up. _Closer_ and _closer_.

And then Fleur stopped her ministrations and near pushed the brunette further against the wall to halt the other woman’s own movement. Hermione cried out in surprise and disappointment as she could feel herself right on the edge, but blocked by the very person who she needed that last push from.

“Fleur, what are you-” 

“You did not answer me, _Ma Petite Lionne_ , just _who_ do you belong to?” 

Under any other circumstances, Hermione would have lashed out at the audacity of the other witch. But she was _so close_ she could practically taste the sensation. The brunette sobbed against the part-Veela, like a drug addict so desperate for that next big high.

“ _Yours!_ I’m yours. Please, Fleur just - “ And the french witch redoubled her efforts, and Hermione would have sighed in relief but she found her hips free and suddenly she was far too occupied with her quest to get _that_ much closer to those masterful digits. 

When the wave finally crashed down on the British witch, Fleur was quick to swallow the scream that was sure to follow with a heated kiss. She held the smaller woman through the aftershocks of her orgasm, her lips there to cushion the various whimpers and sighs that threatened to escape. Eventually the intensity of the moment died down and the two were left sagged against each other and Fleur’s hands were still buried in curly chestnut locks as she kissed the other witch one last time.

“Yours, for however long you will have me, and even then forever after that.” Hermione smiled at the blonde’s whispered admission, even as she could barely stand with the way her legs felt like putty beneath her.

The sound of the closet door as it slammed open caused both women to jump. Ginny stared in horror at the scene before her, her eyes noticeably glued to the deft fingers that were threaded throughout the brunette’s curly locks.

“You… You…” The shock on the red head’s face slowly morphed to that of anger and frustration at the duo before her. “I cannot believe you two!” 

The seventh Weasley child pointed to the tousled remains of Hermione’s updo. “Do you know how long it took me to wrangle her hair into that tiara?! _Hours!_ ” 

Hermione had the decency to look suitably ashamed and embarrassed at the admonishment. Fleur just looked smug at her handywork. 

“Hermione looks fine!” The part-Veela winked at her fiance. “If anything, _I_ think she looks beautiful just the way she is.” The _purr_ that accompanied that statement made the rest of the dual bridal party, obscured from view by the red headed witch that raged at the forefront, groan at the blonde. Ginny huffed and pulled the Gryffindor genius from the closet.

“ _Be that as it may_ , you’re both getting married in an hour!” 

“Less than an hour.” Angelina called out somewhere in the other room where the caught couple couldn’t see her. 

“ _Less than an hour!”_ The maid of honor hissed out at the two. “Seriously Fleur, you couldn’t wait ‘till your honeymoon _after_ the ceremony to make crazy love to your wife?!” 

“Nope.” If the smug tone and the sass filled answer didn’t already infuriate the red head, the way the french witch eyed her best friend like she wanted to go for round two in spite of the time crunch certainly did. A strangled noise escaped Ginny before she could stop it as she pulled the brunette back towards the powder room. 

A squeaked ‘ _sorry Ginny,’_ escaped the curly haired witch as they moved further away and the rest of the wedding party split in two in hopes that they could salvage the hair and makeup on both the brides in time for the ceremony. 

Fleur just sauntered back to her own exasperated maid of honor, the accomplished look on her face the only thing that hinted at the plans she had in mind for her soon to be wife. 

  
_‘I’m sure we don’t need to stay for the_ whole _reception…’_ Fleur giggled to herself as her half of the bridal party simultaneously rolled their eyes. At least they knew what they signed up for.

**Author's Note:**

> For the tiny bit of french I threw in there just in case it wasn't super obvious:  
> "Ma Petite Lionne" - My Tiny Lioness
> 
> This one is dedicated to the crazy folks over the Fleurmione discord. They inspire me to write for this couple every day, even when I'm too lazy or procrastinating with my backlog of video games. So you can either thank, or blame those guys for this crazy piece.


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